


Sleeping at Last

by myglassesaredirty



Series: Oh Boy, Kiddo [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Infinity War, Major character death - Freeform, haha angst, implied suicide, inspired by a tumblr post, the holy trinity of pain, the “i’m sorry” scene from the leaked trailer, yeah just a lot of angst tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-02 00:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myglassesaredirty/pseuds/myglassesaredirty
Summary: Peter’s last line of defense isn’t Instant Kill Mode, or his Iron Spider suit, or any of his 573 web shooter combinations.No, Peter Parker’s last line od defense is Tony Stark throwing himself in front of a blast meant for Peter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WHY CAN MY BRAIN NOT TAKE CARE OF THE THINGS I ACTUALLY HAVE TO WRITE???
> 
> LIKE STARK INDUSTRIES TO PARKER INDUSTRIES????
> 
> OR THAT ONE REQUEST???
> 
> OR MY FRICKIN SCREENPLAY?!?!?!?!?

He’s cold and scared and tired. He’d rather be at school, listening to Flash’s taunts, listening to the teachers drone on and on, listening to the clamor in the cafeteria. He misses Ned’s and Michelle’s laughs, he misses the way she makes fun of him, he misses a lot of things.

It’s not like they’re gone yet. But they might be.

“Kid, you alright?” Tony asks through their one-on-one comm.

He pauses, trying to gauge the appropriate response. “Yeah,” he says, shooting a web to catch a ride with Rhodey. “As good as can be.”

He hears the disbelief in Tony’s voice when he says, “Okay, but don’t draw attention to yourself. We don’t know how bad Thanos is.”

“Sure we do, Mr. Stark,” he says. “Just look around you.”

The hairs on the back of his neck stands on end, and he turns his head and lets go of his web a millisecond before a blue flash slices through the webbing. A small blast hits his shoulder, and he tumbles through the air, the ghost of a scream on his lips as he forgets how to breathe.

“I’ve got him!” both Rhodey and Tony call. Tony gets to him first, reaching a hand out and grabbing Peter by the wrist and hauling him in the direction of relative safety.

Tony lays him on the ground and takes off his mask. Peter’s face is pale, and he coughs slightly. His ribs hurt.

“Kid, you can’t just–” Tony sighs and steps out of the suit. “You can’t just _do_ that.” He kneels beside Peter and props up his head. “Are you alright?”

Peter coughs again and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Tony,” he whispers. He’s scared and he doesn’t know what’s going to happen after this. Sure, he just has some bruised ribs and nothing more _right_ _now_ , but who knows what’s going to happen in the near future? “I’m sorry.”

Tony furrows his eyebrows. “What are you apologizing for?”

“I-I’m just really scared and I know that I said I’d be brave, but I can’t-I can’t _do it_ , Tony, I’m sorry.” Tears blur his vision, and he feels sick to his stomach.

Tony shakes his head. “Hey, whoa whoa whoa whoa, it’s alright. It’s okay to be scared.” He exhales shakily. “Hell, _I’m_ scared. And, kid, being scared is the most important part of bravery. Otherwise, you’re self-sacrificial or just plain stupid. Scared is okay. Scared means you’re human.”

He wipes away some tears. “Tony, I-I just…this is too much.”

Tony sets his jaw and thinks for a moment. “Okay,” he nods. “Okay. I’m not going to make you fight if you feel like you can’t. Just wait until it’s safer.”

Peter shakes his head. “No, it’s…it’s not that.” His voice is syrupy. “I just…who’s gonna live and who’s gonna die?”

Tony licks his lips and looks away for a second. When he looks back at Peter, there’s a new determination in his eyes. “I don’t know, kid. But what I do know is you’re not going to die. As long as I have breath in my body, you’re going to live and you’re not going to die.”

“I don’t want to be the only one left.”

He can see the emotional turmoil in Tony’s eyes. “And I don’t want you to die,” he finally whispers. He seems to consider something for a moment before he pulls Peter up and hugs him tightly. “You’re not going to die, kid, you’re going to be just fine. I swear it on my life.”

Peter nods into Tony’s neck.

Steve’s scream cuts through the silence, and Peter immediately tugs the mask back on and Tony steps back into the suit. Peter shoots a web to Tony’s foot and follows him back into the thick of battle.

Steve is lying on his back, a raw scream piercing through the sounds of the war. His arm is bloodied, and Peter briefly wonders if he’s lost part of it. When Steve rolls onto his stomach and pushes himself up, Peter can see the gash in his side.

Steve’s voice cuts through the general comm as he stands and looks Thanos square in the eyes. “I can do this all day.”

Before Peter can step in to do anything, Tony speaks into the direct line he has with Peter. “Kid, you’re going back to New York.”

“What? No! I can do this, I can fight –”

“Dammit, Peter, I said you were going to live through this! Just listen to me for once!”

Peter stops for a second. “You called me Peter?”

“So?”

“You’ve never called me by my first name before.”

He can hear Tony swallow. “Well, it might be the last chance I have, kid.” Through the general comm, he addresses the wizards. “Strange, can you open a portal to New York?”

“I can, but I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Just get Spider-man to safety.”

“Of course.”

Peter sees the fiery orange, and he shoots a web in Thanos’s direction.

“Peter!” Tony screams, secret identity be damned. “Peter, I swear to God, don’t be an idiot!”

Peter ignores him, landing in front of Thanos. Steve’s to his left and Natasha’s to his right, but neither of them are close enough to stop him from doing something stupid.

“Hey, raisin!” he shouts, webbing the gauntlet on Thanos’s hand. “I think you need a little moisturizer!”

“What-what is he doing?”

“Tony, get him out of here.”

“Kid, stop, you’re going to do something really stupid.”

“I’ve got eyes on him.”

Peter takes in a shaky breath. “Karen, mute comms.”

“Peter!”

He sets his shoulders and tries to glare at Thanos. “Did anyone ever tell you look like an eggplant? You know, those purple zucchini-like plants? And well, something else entirely, but I think Steve can still hear me, so I’m not going to say it.”

Thanos laughs, and no sound has ever struck so much fear in Peter’s heart. He lifts his hand, easily breaking free of the webbing, and aims at Peter. “It’s always easy killing a spider.”

Peter’s breath hitches in his throat, and before he can react to the blue beam of light coming his way, a flash of gold and red cuts across it, sending the person flying away from him.

It takes a millisecond for it to register in Peter’s brain. And when it does, the only thing left is silence.

“Tony!” he screams.

“FRIDAY, override Spider-man’s comm.” Rhodey’s voice cuts clearly through the turmoil in Peter’s brain, and it’s steady.

Peter, on the other hand, is not. He shoots a web in the direction of the spinning Iron Man suit, pleading with God to let him at least be alive. Alive is good. Alive he can work with.

The web sticks, and Peter’s shoulder nearly pops out of his socket as he’s pulled along.

“Anyone have eyes on Spider-man?” Natasha asks.

“I do,” Rhodey says, firing up his repulsors and following Peter.

“So do I,” Strange says. “He’s on Tony’s tail. I’ve got him.”

Peter’s sobs finally cut through the comm. “No no no no, Tony, please, no, stop, just come on, please.”

The Iron Man suit finally crashes about half a mile away from the thick of battle, and Peter follows soon after. As soon as he’s on the ground, he rips off his mask and crawls to Tony’s side, grabbing the faceplate in his hand and tearing it off.

Tony’s still alive.

Blood trickles from his ears and his face is paler than that of a ghost’s, but he’s alive.

Peter huffs out a laugh of joy and tries to take apart the armor. He doesn’t know where Tony’s most hurt, but he needs to save him, he can’t lose anyone else, he can’t lose him.

Tony’s hands grip Peter’s tightly. “Stop,” he manages to gasp out. He breathes for a second. “Just…just stop.”

Peter sniffles and shakes his head. “Ton-no, you’re going to die, please, no, I can’t-I can’t lose you, too.” Tears fall down his cheeks as he whispers, “I can’t lose another dad.”

Tony smiles and holds Peter’s hands tighter. “I love you, kid. I didn’t…I never had kids, but you…you ended up being the best son any man could ask for. I didn’t deserve you. But I got you.”

Peter shakes his head again. “No,” he gasps. The knot in his throat tightens. “No, not you, not you, too.”

The edges of Tony’s eyes crinkle in a smile, and he moves one hand to tousle Peter’s hair. “Do good, Peter. You’re a good kid.”

“Tony, no, no, we can figure something out –”

Tony manages to laugh at that, a weak but genuine laugh. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. I don’t have enough time. Please, Peter, just listen to me.” He swallows and takes a shaky breath. “Don’t…remember when I told you I wanted you to be better than me?”

Peter nods.

“You always were. You always were, kid. Peter. You’re such a great kid. I can’t wait to see what you’ll do.” Tony coughs, and blood spurts from his mouth.

“I can’t do it without you.”

Somewhere, Tony finds the energy to nod. “Sure, you can.” He smiles at Peter. “I love you, kid.”

Peter smiles, but it’s sad. It’s sad because no matter how badly he’s wanted Tony to reaffirm him, his dying breath is not how he wanted it to go. It’s sad because Tony’s saying goodbye, and there is no return from this. It’s sad because it may be the last thing Tony Stark ever says, and it’s directed to him and only him.

Tony swallows, gagging against the taste of blood at the base of his throat. “You know, I used to be scared of space.” His eyes brim with tears, and he smiles sadly. “I’m not so scared anymore.”

He doesn’t speak after that. In fact, his only action is closing his eyes and taking  
one  
final  
breath.

Peter almost doesn’t believe it for a moment. Not even when Tony’s eyelids no longer flutter, not when the body goes completely still. It only hits him once the remaining color begins to drain from Tony’s face. He gently shakes him. “Tony?” he asks.

He doesn’t move.

Peter shakes him a bit more forcefully. “Tony?”

Still nothing.

He presses two fingers to Tony’s neck, feeling desperately for a pulse.

He expects a faint throbbing, but it seems that the blood flow has finally come to a halt.

Peter sniffles and now, more than before, tears completely blur his vision and run hot and fast down his face. “Come on, wake up, wake up, it’s not funny, come on. Come on, I can’t lose you, please, please, just do this one thing for me.”

Strong hands wrap around Peter’s tiny frame and grip his wrists, gently pulling him away from Tony’s body. “Give him some space, Peter. Don’t look.”

Peter can’t even see Tony’s body through his tears, but he half-heartedly struggles against Strange’s grip. “No, no, I gotta be there when he gets up, he’s gonna be so scared –”

Rhodey steps in, putting a metal hand on Peter’s shoulder, helping Strange guide him away from the scene of death. He says nothing, and Peter can feel the slight tremors in his hand and he doesn’t need to look under that faceplate to see a man drowning in his own tears. Rhodey looks back at Tony and shakes his head a little, as if trying to clear an unwelcome thought from his memory.

“I lost him, I couldn’t save him, it’s just like Uncle Ben all over again, but this time it’s _worse_ , oh God, why did this happen, oh God oh God oh _God_.”

Strange shushes him, and the cloak tries to wipe away Peter’s tears, but they’re coming too quickly that it can’t. As they pass Steve, who looks so wracked with guilt that Peter almost offers condolences, almost lets him grieve.

“You sick son of a bitch,” he mutters as he passes Steve.

The look of hurt on Steve’s face is worth it. Worth the pain it brings Peter, to say this to a man who was once his idol.

Steve nods once. “I was wrong about him.”

“Damn right you were.”

Strange and Rhodey guide him to a secluded cave. “Listen,” Rhodey says, and his voice is just as thick as Peter’s. “I know it hurts like hell. But right now, you’ve gotta store away that hurt. There’s a time for grief, and we can take care of that as soon as the battle’s over. Just…not now, okay? We’ve gotta get through this.”

Peter nods. In an instant, however, his demeanor changes. He looks from Rhodey to Thanos. His jaw sets, and his eyes become ice cold. His hands stop shaking, and he tugs his mask back on. “Karen, activate Instant Kill.”

The AI in his suit hesitates for a moment. “Peter –”

“Did I fucking stutter? You’re usually so eager. Why won’t you activate Instant Kill?” His voice is cold, and Strange closes his eyes against its cutting edge.

“Peter, Mr. Stark took away the feature.”

“Well, fucking get it back.”

Karen doesn’t speak. Instead, she plays a video with Tony looking at the camera.

“Hey, kid,” he laughs, running a hand through his hair. He’s alive in this video, bright and smiling and genuinely happy. “Um, you just left to go back to Queens, but I wanted to include this video. Um, I took away the Instant Kill Mode. You’re not,” Tony shakes his head, “you’re not a killer. And I know you, kid. You…you wear your heart on your sleeve. I took away this feature,” Tony nods to the camera, where Peter imagines the blueprints of his Iron Spider suit are, “because I didn’t – don’t – want you to lose sight of who you are. Just know that I’m proud of you, kid. Always have been. Always will be.” He smiles sadly and looks over the camera. “FRIDAY, Karen…deactivate Instant Kill.”

The video cuts out.

Peter takes a shaky breath and collapses into Rhodey’s arms. He’s sobbing and there’s nothing he can do to stop, there’s no way he can avenge Tony’s death at all at this point anymore.

He’s lost so much already.

 


	2. An Echo in the Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This time, Peter takes the hit for Tony. He doesn’t get enough time to tell Tony anything of importance – not even that he was the closest thing he’d had to a dad since Uncle Ben.
> 
> And Tony has to live with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Bet you didn’t think I’d return. MWAHAHAHAHAHA.
> 
> So I’m continuing this with this chapter (seriously, blame @ howlingdawn on tumblr, none of this is my fault) in this fic that is AKA “The Holy Trinity of Pain.” Buckle up, bitches, the last chapter is going to be painful as all fuck.

He felt uneasy.  
  
To be fair, that was a relatively broad statement when one considered the fact that his stomach was doing somersaults and there was a likely possibility that his breakfast would come up sooner or later.  
  
But, no. That wasn’t what he meant when he said that he felt uneasy.  
  
His eyes followed the teenager swinging from building to building, occasionally catching a ride from someone else.  
  
That kid should not be there.  
  
And didn’t he have homework?  
  
Even as he thought it, he realized that it meant nothing. Schools had shut down. New York City had practically been evacuated, and a state of emergency had been declared throughout the country.  
  
He turned his attention back to the battle, still watching the teenager in his periphery.  
  
He had a bad feeling about this.  
  
Tony’s bad feelings were normally thought to be just that – feelings, a worry that wouldn’t come true.  
  
But time and again, a choking apprehension would seize him and never let him go. And, time and again, his fear turned out to be correct. Call him clairvoyant.  
  
Which was exactly why Tony kept his eye on Peter Parker as he swung through the air, ready to catch him if he fell.  
  
He’d hear it from Steve later, about how he shouldn’t be dragging kids in to fight, but Tony really couldn’t care less. That is, Steve would tell him off if he survived.  
  
Peter let himself free-fall for a moment, and Tony was pretty sure his heart briefly stopped. When he shot a web to catch a ride with Sam, Tony let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.  
  
Thanos was disgusting.  
  
That was the truth of it all.  
  
He was gigantic and purple and ugly and frankly, he looked like a mix between an eggplant and Barney.  
  
But, most of all, he was disgustingly sadistic.  
  
Tony shook his head, watching as Sam dropped Peter off at a building, where he was told to evacuate civilians.  
  
Peter saluted, charging into the building. “Yes, sir!”  
  
Tony didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.  
  
Because, after all, he knew something bad was going to happen eventually.  
  
He marveled at how energetic Peter still was, even after several hours of fighting. They were pushing a full 24-hours of war, and Peter was still as animated as before, if not more so.  
  
Tony fired up his blasters, aiming them at Thanos’s crotch. If there was any sort of weak spot (likely not, but he could hope), the crotch was it.  
  
But as best he could figure, they couldn’t lay a fucking finger on him as long as he was wearing that gauntlet.  
  
And, by the looks of it, Thanos knew it.  
  
When Tony fired, Thanos didn’t even blink, hardly making the effort to turn and face him. Tony cocked his head to the side, daring the giant eggplant to kill him.  
  
He was sick of life anyway.  
  
Minus the Peter Parker and James Rhodes part.  
  
Thanos smiled, raising his hand in imitation of Iron Man.  
  
“Mr. Stark, watch out!”  
  
Tony barely made out the words before he saw a blue flash of light, interrupted only by a flash of red.  
  
Thanos chuckled, turning away from Tony.  
  
He was still breathing.  
  
How the _fuck_ had that happened?  
  
When he looked down, he saw Peter. He was a mess of tangled limbs and blood and strangled whimpers.  
  
And Tony’s heart dropped into the pit of his stomach.  
  
He stepped out of the suit, dropping to his knees beside Peter. Gently, he reached out and rolled Peter onto his back.  
  
His eyes were glazed over, looking almost like glass. Those brown eyes that had always been so full of life were dead, and all trace of curiosity and wonder had disappeared the moment he’d taken the blast intended for Tony.  
  
He couldn’t look at them.  
  
Tony’s eyes wandered to where Peter was clutching his stomach. A strangled breath came out of Peter’s mouth, and Tony knew that Peter had mere minutes left to live.  
  
“Okay, buddy, okay, we’re gonna get you patched up, you’re gonna be alright, just hang in there, okay?” Tony gently removed Peter’s hands from the wound, and as soon as he did, he wanted to cover it up again.  
  
There was no way in hell that Peter could survive that.  
  
Peter looked down, his eyes welling up with tears. Tony covered the wound with his hand, cradling Peter’s head with his other one.  
  
Peter swallowed, and it sounded like he was choking. His mouth moved as if he were trying to form words, but his body wouldn’t allow that.  
  
“You scared me, kid, you know that?” Tony knew he was crying, and he knew Peter could see the tears that were rapidly falling from his eyes, but he really couldn’t care less. “This suit isn’t perfect yet, bud. But we’ll get there.”  
  
Peter gripped Tony’s hand, and his uneasiness returned, this time infinitely stronger than before.  
  
Peter Parker was going to die.  
  
Tony licked his lips. “I never was a dad, kid. Thought I would be a shit father. But I need you to know: I couldn’t have asked for a better son.”  
  
Peter was struggling to breathe, and Tony could hear gurgling whenever Peter took a breath. But a tear fell down Peter’s cheek, and some of the life returned to his eyes.  
  
It was too late, and both of them knew it.  
  
Peter arched his back, blood spurting from his mouth. He tried to breathe, but the buildup of plasma in his throat choked him. His eyes rolled back, and Tony could see the whites of his eyes. A strangled cough came from Peter, and then his body went still.  
  
There was a rumble of thunder. Flashes of red and gold. Portals opening and closing all around him. A shield bounced off a brick building nearby and boomeranged back to its owner.  
  
But the world had stopped for him.  
  
He moved his hand, pressing it to Peter’s neck, desperately feeling for a faint throbbing.  
  
Nothing.  
  
He took his hand away and tried again, pleading with God to let there be a piece of life still left in that boy.  
  
Still nothing.  
  
Out of desperation, Tony pressed his ear to Peter’s chest, listening for a heartbeat.  
  
Only silence echoed back to him.  
  
Peter was dead.  
  
The words finally processed in his brain, and it felt like Grief had tied him to an anchor and dropped it in the ocean. His lungs begged for air, tears burned his eyes, and the pain in his chest was overwhelming.  
  
His kid was dead.  
  
He pulled Peter into his arms, cradling the lifeless body. He buried his face in Peter’s hair, sobbing uncontrollably.  
  
And he screamed.  
  
His screams were haunting.  
  
So much so that the battle paused momentarily, even Thanos looking to see the destruction he’d caused.  
  
Steve stood still, shield in hand, watching as Tony rocked back and forth, holding that kid in his arms. Bucky looked to him and reached out, wanting to offer his best friend comfort.  
  
Clint’s eyes widened, realizing that there was a likely possibility he would be in that position, and he steadily started moving to Wanda. Scott visibly deflated, digging into his belt and pulling out a picture of his daughter.  
  
Rhodey was the only one who began moving towards Tony.  
  
Tony’s screams were hollow and raw, so full of pain and heartbreak.  
  
Rhodey stepped out of the suit, turning his head from the scene unfolding before him. He gripped Tony’s wrists, trying to gently pry him from Peter’s body so Strange could evaluate the damage.  
  
Another scream tore from Tony’s throat, and Rhodey stopped, his blood running cold.  
  
Rhodey tried again, but when Tony refused to move from the teenager’s body, he grabbed Tony’s arms firmly and dragged him away.  
  
Tony fought him at first, his cries turning into whimpers. When Strange knelt by the boy, passing his hand over the gaping hole in his abdomen, Tony turned in Rhodey’s arms and hugged him tightly.  
  
The sobs wracked his body, the fight had drained from him, and wave after wave of grief kept slamming to the forefront of his mind.  
  
Rhodey rubbed soothing circles on his back, looking to Strange and making eye contact. When he looked up from Peter’s body, Rhodes mouthed “you need to save that kid.”  
  
Tony wouldn’t survive otherwise. He wouldn’t want to survive.  
  
Rhodey shut his eyes tightly, and he could still hear Tony’s screams echoing in his mind.  
  
They were haunting.

* * *

 

It was all he could do to stand in the middle of that darkened hallway, facing a wooden door with his fist raised to knock.  
  
The mere thought of the words he’d have to say, the apology he’d have to deliver, was just too much for him to think about.  
  
But it wasn’t his place.  
  
It never truly had been, after all.  
  
May deserved to grieve.  
  
So did Peter’s best friend – Ned, was it?  
  
And his crush or girlfriend, or whatever they were – Michelle, she had earned the right.  
  
But him?  
  
He had only the right to steel himself against his own emotions, shoving away all thoughts of Peter’s excitedness and intelligence and genuine joy. All he had to do right now was knock on that damn door, give an apology that he couldn’t ever form into sufficient words, let May grieve (and if she needed to take that grief out on him, by all means, he would let her), go home, and sit in the blackness of his room while he tried not to think of a Peter-shaped hole in his heart that was already peppered with holes.  
  
But he still couldn’t bring himself to knock.  
  
It was as if Peter’s death had taken something from him and left a weakness and exhaustion that Tony hadn’t felt in decades.  
  
He sniffled once and rapped on the door.  
  
May opened it.  
  
There was a brief moment of silence while he gathered the words to look her in the eyes and tell her that her nephew was dead.  
  
Instead, he just stared while he blinked back tears.  
  
She shook her head slightly. “He’s not coming back, is he?”  
  
He sniffled again and shook his head.  
  
She squeezed her eyes shut, and a few tears fell down her cheeks. “My God.” Reaching out, she pulled him into a hug. She cried into his shoulder, and he saw Ned and Michelle sitting on the couch, eyes red and puffy.  
  
Goddammit, he’d _done this_.  
  
He cried.  
  
He thought he could hold it back, but the mere sight of Michelle – an intimidating person if he’d ever met one, someone he would never consider showing emotion – turning to Ned as her face flushed red and tears streamed down her face, broke him.  
  
It was an ache. That was how it started.  
  
Gradually, it grew to the point it drowned him in his own tears – he choked on the lump in his throat. His eyes burned, and the ache was now pain that spread throughout his entire body.  
  
He’d fought supervillains, criminals, gods and monsters, but no enemy was as powerful or fearsome as this one.  
  
Grief sucked.  
  
It felt like Grief had wrapped a chain around his neck and pulled. He could feel that phantom finger tracing down his spine and he could hear the whispers Grief spoke in his ear.  
  
– _It’s all your fault.  
  
– You called him out there.  
  
– You didn’t protect him.  
  
– You could’ve stopped it.  
  
– He’s dead._  
  
It was always the last one that kept coming to the front of his mind, and it was the thought that hurt the most.  
  
He pulled away from May’s embrace, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. May’s eyes were red, and she covered her mouth with a shaking hand, turning away from him and towards the two teenagers sitting on her couch.  
  
Michelle was looking at him in horror, and he sniffled, scratching the tip of his nose with his thumb. For once, Peter’s best friend wasn’t staring at him in awe.  
  
He had done this.  
  
“Mrs. Parker,” he said, and the brokenness in his voice surprised even him. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Mrs. Parker, I just wanted you to know: your nephew died a hero.”  
  
She shook her head. “He shouldn’t have died at all.”  
  
He blinked back tears and nodded once. “I know.”  
  
“You,” she pointed an accusing finger at him, “called him out there when he had _no business_ fighting in that war.”  
  
Peter had told him himself that he would’ve fought anyway; Tony figured it would be safer to monitor him this way.  
  
And unsurprisingly, he was wrong.  
  
“I know,” he said again.  
  
“He worshiped the ground you walked on, and you didn’t have the _decency_ to protect him!”  
  
“May –” Ned began to say, but she lifted a hand, effectively shutting him up.  
  
“You’ve hurt him before, Tony. And you’ve hurt him again. This time, it can’t be fixed! And what –” she pressed the heels of her hands into her eyelids. “And what do you expect me to do about it?”  
  
He shook his head, incapable of finding the words necessary to tell her.  
  
He needed to tell her that Strange tried what he could, bandaging the wound, cleaning it with magic, doing everything within his power to bring Peter Parker back from the dead, but nothing was enough, and nothing would ever be enough.  
  
He needed to tell her that Peter had died protecting _him_ – a man whose entire world had now been ripped out from under his feet, and he was now staring that boy’s aunt in the face, turning away all thoughts of telling her how Peter was like the son he’d never had.  
  
He needed to tell her that he specifically put Peter on civilian duty in order to protect him from things that could kill him, and it was only Peter’s _stupid_ , _irrational_ , _self-sacrificing_ person that led to his death.  
  
But every time he reminded himself of the words he needed to say, a lump formed in his throat and he couldn’t speak.  
  
He took a shaky breath. “He died protecting me.”  
  
May stared at him for a moment, anger flashing in her eyes before she lunged at him, pounding her fists against his chest. “You stupid, narcissistic _bastard_! You mother _fucker_ , you pathetic _coward_!”  
  
He let her.  
  
She could pack a punch, and he reminded himself not to flinch against her fists of fury. He’d earned this, after all. He’d done this to himself.  
  
She swung wildly and her fist connected with his jaw. Instinctively, he reached out and grabbed her elbows, holding her at arm’s length. Her eyes were on fire, but he didn’t back down.  
  
“I put your nephew on civilian duty.” When that failed to spark a reaction, he continued. “ _I_ was the one who was in the hit zone. _I_ was the one who was supposed to die. But Peter saw what was about to happen, and he jumped in front of the blast before I could do anything. I didn’t even register what had happened until he’d been hit.”  
  
She stared at him for an uncomfortable length of time before wrenching her arms from his grasp, turning on her heels and walking back towards her room.  
  
Ned and Michelle shared an apologetic look. They stood slowly, Ned following May to her room while Michelle walked up to him. She offered him a weak smile, and she pulled him into a hug.  
  
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.  
  
He sniffled and smiled sadly, waving at her before he left the building.  
  
**X-X-X-X-X**  
  
It was late at night when Tony walked back into the compound. Most of the lights were off, save for a single bulb in the kitchen. The lights in the Avengers’ rooms were all off, some simply because they were trying to sleep, others because they would never be turned on again.  
  
The ache in his chest was more prevalent now, and it was never-ending. The emptiness of the compound only added to that pain, and he sighed heavily as he trekked into the kitchen, pulling out a glass from the kitchen cabinet.  
  
He briefly thought about tinkering in the lab, but he suddenly remembered that Peter wouldn’t be there, perched on top of one of the lab tables as he blabbered on about his day.  
  
He slammed the cabinet shut when Peter’s voice played in his head again: _“Next week is my science fair, Mr. Stark. Y-you don’t have to come if you don’t want to, really I’m not asking that you do, but well…you know, it’s stupid, Mr. Stark butifyoucouldpleasecome –”_  
  
That damn science fair.  
  
Peter had brilliant ideas of how to make life better for the average American, how to improve the American education system, how to lead the country out of a time of loss and to a period of prosperity.  
  
Tony didn’t know how it could be accomplished anymore.  
  
He shook his head, reaching into the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of scotch. It was an accident, really, it was, but he cast a glance in the direction of Peter’s room, waiting for him to plod down the hallway and take a seat in the same spot he always sat in.  
  
And then he remembered. Again.  
  
His fingers curled around the neck of the bottle, but he loosened his grip, reminding himself to take three deep breaths.  
  
Peter wouldn’t be walking down that hallway again, rubbing his eyes sleepily as he mentioned how much homework he’d had that night. He wouldn’t sit in the chair Tony had mentally designated as his as he asked for a glass of apple juice. He wouldn’t rifle through the bookshelves, looking for any book that could help him sleep.  
  
Tony clenched his jaw and poured the scotch into the glass.  
  
He didn’t know why Peter had died for him. Peter was a kid, and Tony –  
  
He was an adult who had been involved in some pretty fucked-up shit, while Peter only tried to _stop_ fucked-up shit. If he could, Tony would reverse time just so Peter would never had died for him, because, again, there was every reason in the world that he should’ve been the one to die and Peter should’ve been the one to live.  
  
He sipped from the glass.  
  
Peter’s seat was empty.  
  
The lab was empty.  
  
Peter’s room was empty.  
  
Everything was empty without the senseless babble of a teenage kid whose mind was running a million miles a minute. An unfinished Lego set sat on the coffee table, just close enough to the light that Tony could see the shadow of it. Peter’s backpack sat on his chair, half open with his homework assignments scattered over the table.  
  
Tony set his drink down, bracing his hands against the countertop.  
  
Peter wasn’t coming back.  
  
His fingers curled against the edges of the counter as he breathed shallowly, trying to push away the rising anger and guilt.  
  
Why?  
  
That was all he could think, the only answer he had to thoughts concerning Peter’s sacrifice.  
  
There was _nothing_ for Tony to live for beyond a teenager who needed a guiding hand. And somehow, someway, this innocent, stupid _kid_ had thought he was worth dying for.  
  
He would never know why.  
  
He growled, picking up the glass and hurling it with all his strength. It smashed against the somewhat-assembled Lego set, and he froze in horror as it broke apart.  
  
A sob escaped from his mouth, and he slowly lowered himself to the floor as he wept.  
  
It hurt.  
  
It really, really _hurt_.  
  
He wished he could put it into words, he wished he could just describe how it felt, but it ran so deep that he couldn’t think and he couldn’t decide which emotion was stronger – rage or grief.  
  
He reached up and mopped his face with his hand.  
  
It sucked.  
  
Life was hell, Peter’s death was hell, it was all hell, and this time, Tony was pretty sure it wouldn’t _stop_ being that way.  
  
He didn’t hear the steps, but he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up through a wall of tears to see Sam looking down at him. He said nothing, simply sitting on the ground beside Tony and keeping a hand on his shoulder, offering him support and a source of comfort.  
  
Tony shook his head and waved Sam away. He stayed for a while before standing and leaving the kitchen.  
  
It was hours later when he crawled into the living room, settling himself in front of the coffee table. He pulled the instruction sheet from under the box and opened it, gingerly picking up the scattered pieces. Slowly, he assembled it, and by the time the sun rose, it had been completed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *beats drum* SYMBOLISM SYMBOLISM SYMBOLISM


	3. Come Back to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter’s not with them anymore. Tony begs and pleads, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to make the rating more mature. There’s implied suicide at the very end. There is significant canon-typical violence. If any of this might be triggering, please don’t read on.

“Peter?”

  
The teenager lies on the ground in a crumpled heap, and Tony’s heart stops in his throat as he exits the suit and kneels beside him. He reaches out his hand and touches Peter’s shoulder. “Peter?”

  
He doesn’t move.

  
Tony shakes him a little, tapping his cheek with his free hand. “Come on, kid, wake up. We’ve got some work to do.”

  
Peter groans and tries to push Tony’s hands away. “Man, he really packs a punch.”

  
Tony huffs out a breath that could almost pass as laughter. “Yeah, he sure does.”

  
Peter lets his head fall back against the ground. “Shit.”

  
“Language.”

  
Peter cracks open one eye and smirks. “Are you turning into Captain America now, or what?”

  
Tony tousles Peter’s hair. “Just trying to be a responsible adult. Get your mask back on, we need to try and take Thanos down.”

  
Peter nods, and Tony hands him the mask. “Tony, um…do-do we even know how to beat Thanos?”

  
Tony stands, dusting the dirt off of his pants. “Not really. That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  
“Do you think we could beat him if he’s not wearing that gauntlet?” Peter asks as he tugs the mask over his face.

  
Tony shrugs and pulls Peter up. “That’s a good question. I think we could, but we’d lose some in the process.”

  
“Aside from world domination, what exactly can he do with that gauntlet?”

  
He considers Peter’s question for a moment. “I don’t know. I feel like he can brainwash you, but I would advise not getting close enough to try.”

  
Peter salutes him. “Yes, sir.”

  
“Please stop calling me sir,” he says as the suit closes up around him. Once he’s in the suit, he takes off for the battle. “Alright, everyone, Spider-man’s still good. Let’s focus on trying to take down Thanos’s army first, and then we can try and get the big guy.”

  
Somewhere, Hulk roars.

  
“Yeah, Banner, you can go fight Thanos if you feel like it, but we could use your help with the puny guys.”

  
When there’s no giant green rage monster hurtling through the air, Tony assumes that Hulk has decided to stay and fight the smaller demogorgons with the rest of them.

  
He would almost have expected it to be a fairly easy fight, except Thanos’s army had razor-sharp teeth that could pierce through even vibranium. One of them sends T’Challa flying, blood soaking through the tear in his suit.

  
He rolls into his fall, getting up slowly. “Now, I am angry,” he grits through his teeth.

  
Angry is good. Tony can work with angry.

  
“Okay, report. Updates. Steve, how you doing over there?” Tony speaks into the comm.

  
He hears something squeal, and he can hear blood gurgling. “Just _peachy_ , Tony.”

  
“You’re getting a little persnickety there, Cap. Rhodey, Sam, what about you?”

  
“I just want to go back to sleep and pretend this is all a bad dream,” Sam says.

  
“I second that,” Rhodey says. Through the comm, Tony can hear the machine guns firing down upon the demogorgons.

  
“Asgardians?”

  
Lightning rains down from the heavens, and the rolling thunder that follows reverberates through Tony’s iron suit. A wave ripples through the battlefield and knocks Tony back.

  
“Well, my section is taken care of,” Thor says.

  
Tony shakes his head clear of the cobwebs that came from being blown into next Thursday. “Yep, I saw that. Loki? Val?”

  
“Just a second!” Loki shouts. Tony waits for something just as intense as Thor’s presentation, but a moment later, Loki comes over the comm. “Okay, my sect is also taken care of.”

  
Alright.

  
Just as he’s about to ask Valkyrie how she’s doing, she speaks into the line. “Another hundred are dead.”

  
The Asgardians are the main reason they’re all still alive.

  
The others check in: Strange and Wong have successfully taken out five dozen aliens, the Guardians are doing about as well as the Asgardians, the assassins have taken down about two dozen aliens, and the others are slowly picking apart the rest of them.

  
The only one who has yet to report in is Peter.

  
“Spider-man, come in. How are you doing?”

  
There’s silence on the other end.

  
Tony taps his ear, knowing that it’s not a problem with his suit. “FRIDAY, did he mute comms?”

  
There’s another moment of silence as FRIDAY scans Peter’s suit. “No, boss.”

  
“Is the suit still online?”

  
“Yes, boss.”

  
He sighs heavily. “Come on, kid, you need to check in. How are you doing over there?”

  
Radio silence.

  
“FRIDAY, pull up Spider-man’s vitals.” Tony studies the holograms, and there’s nothing too out of the ordinary – the only slight abnormality is Peter’s heart rate, and that’s entirely understandable, but Tony can’t help but feel like something’s off. “Pull up his location, I’m benching him.”

  
“Of course, boss.”

  
Tony hovers in the air, occasionally killing demogorgons at random. When FRIDAY finally gets a lock on Peter’s location, he flies off in his direction. “Steve, you’re in charge!”

  
“What? Tony, no, wait, what’s going on –”

  
“And mute. Turn on the one-on-one comm connected to Spider-man’s suit.” Tony can finally see the red and blue metal suit, and Peter’s swinging around like normal, just…

  
There’s something off about the entire thing.

  
He lowers himself to the ground. “Kid, you haven’t checked in. We need to make sure you’re okay.”

  
Peter still doesn’t pay him any attention.

  
“Kid, that’s a rookie move.” He sighs heavily. “I’m going to have to bench you. Come on, you’re going home.”

  
Peter doesn’t move from his spot. In fact, he doesn’t look like he’s moving at all.

  
Tony sighs again and steps out of the suit. He walks in Peter’s direction and reaches out to turn Peter to face him. “Kid, I’m gonna need some verbal confirmation –”

  
As soon as Tony’s hand touches Peter’s shoulder, Peter pivots, grabs Tony’s wrist, and punches him square in the chest. Tony is sent flying, and he lands harshly against the ground, and his head narrowly avoids hitting a rock.

  
Peter is still standing in the same position, but he’s not moving, hardly even breathing. He doesn’t make any move to apologize to Tony, and that’s the exact moment that Tony knows something is very, very wrong.

  
He taps his watch. “FRIDAY, deactivate Spider-man’s suit.”

  
“Deactivated,” the AI responds.

  
Peter seems to notice a slight change because he tilts his head and listens intently. When he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he growls and tears off his mask, looking at Tony with only hatred in his eyes.

  
Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “Look, I get that you’re pissed off, but you can’t just do that –”

  
Peter hurries toward him, his hands curled into fists and fire spitting from his eyes.

  
“Peter?”

  
Peter raises his fist, and Tony just barely manages to roll to the side in time. Peter’s fist connects with the rock, and he screams in pain.

  
Tony scrambles away from him, looking for any physical sign of brainwashing, but there’s none. There is no indication that it isn’t Peter Parker until he looks Peter in the eyes, and everything that ever made him is missing from them.

  
Those aren’t Peter’s eyes.

  
“FRIDAY!” Tony calls to the AI. “Run a scan over this guy. Is he even alive?”

  
Red light projects from Tony’s watch and scans Peter’s body as he continues to stalk towards Tony. “He’s alive, boss.”

  
“Like a living, sentient being alive, or are we talking parasite alive?”

  
There’s a pause. “It is unclear.”

  
Peter raises his fist again, and Tony ducks as Peter’s hand flies over his head. He crawls away from the teenager. “ _Is that Peter Parker or is that a fucking demon?_ ” he demands.

  
“That is Peter Parker, sir.”

  
Tony stops.

  
It can’t be.

  
It can’t be, it can’t be, it can’t be. There is no way this is even possible, how is this possible, he doesn’t know –

  
Peter grabs a fistful of Tony’s hair and drags him backwards, and Tony screams. This isn’t Peter, this isn’t Peter, there is something disgustingly wrong with the whole situation, _this isn’t Peter_. Peter’s dragging him in the direction of a cliff, and Tony wants to throw up and cry because this isn’t right, this just isn’t right.

  
He grits his teeth and elbows Peter as hard as he can in the ribs. Peter’s grip loosens, and Tony manages to twist out of his reach.

  
He calls one of his iron hands to him. “Peter, you need to stop what you’re doing.”

  
Peter snarls and charges in Tony’s direction.

  
Tony fires the repulsor.

  
Peter manages to dodge the first blast, but he’s not so lucky with the second. The blast hits Peter’s knee, and he falls to the ground, hissing in pain.

  
Tony takes a step back. “This isn’t you, kid.”

  
Peter growls. He reaches for something in his pocket, and Tony starts sprinting before he can fully register what, exactly, is about to happen.

  
But he always forgets: Peter’s faster than him.

  
Peter catches up to him, and wraps a cord around Tony’s throat. He pulls tight. “You’re going to fucking lose,” he snarls into Tony’s ear.

  
Tony tries to breathe, but the cord is pressing against his windpipe, and he can’t breathe. It’s just like Afghanistan, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t –

  
He reaches up and curls his fingers around the rope. His nails scratch against his skin, but he manages to get his fingers in between the cord and his neck and pulls it far enough away to suck in a breath. He thinks about talking to Peter, about trying to talk him out of this, but he’s not strong enough to stand against that superhuman strength for long.

  
With his other hand, Tony reaches behind him and fires another blast, and this time, it hits Peter’s ribs. Peter screams and the cord falls away from his hands as he reacts to the hit.

  
Tony gasps and grabs the rope. He turns and sees Peter bent over, a gash in his suit – the suit that Tony himself made for him – and blood seeping onto his fingers.

  
He’d done this.

  
Peter straightens, and if Tony thought that Peter was in a murderous rage before, he certainly was now. “You all are going to fucking lose. The Avengers will fall, and they’ll destroy people, and you will all die.”

  
Tony shakes his head. “Peter, stop. This isn’t you.” Even as he pleads, he knows it’s not going to break through Peter’s consciousness. He’s gone. For now.

  
Peter cocks his head and smiles, twisted and cruel. It makes Tony sick. “Oh, it is. Always has been.” He wraps a hand around Tony’s throat and lifts him into the air, seemingly taking glee in the fact that Tony’s legs kick for some foothold. “You did this.”

  
Tony hits Peter’s wrist once, twice, three times with his metal hand before he finally gives up and fires his repulsor again.

  
When it burns Peter’s skin, and when Peter screams in pain and drops him, Tony knows that the spider sense is no longer working.

  
“What the fuck _happened_ to him, FRI?” Tony chokes out.

  
“It seems as if Thanos has somehow possessed him.”

  
So there’s a silver lining after all: Peter isn't doing this of his own accord.

  
“However, there is no way to reverse it.”

  
Tony stands where he is, and it hurts more than being choked to death to see Peter holding his wrist in his other hand and hissing through the pain. “Are you sure you’ve tried everything, FRI?”

  
“If we kill Thanos, Peter still dies.”

  
Tony closes his eyes and clenches his teeth. “So it’s a lose-lose.”

  
“It seems that way.”

  
Tony hangs his head and begins to disengage the Iron Man suit. “Alright.”

  
“But, boss?”

  
“Yeah, FRI?”

  
“If you don’t…if you don’t neutralize the threat, the rest of the team’s chances of survival decrease exponentially.”

  
He thinks he knows what she’s saying, but he can’t process it. He can’t. If he does…if he does, if he does what she’s implying –

  
God, he’s going to throw up.

  
“I have to kill him?”

  
“There’s no other way.”

  
He’s had panic attacks before. He knows exactly what it’s like to be trapped inside his own body, and no one is able to help. He knows helplessness, but he’s never felt any of it so much as he has now.

  
He doubles over and presses his fist into his stomach as he vomits onto the ground. His heart beats quickly, and the more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. His breathing is shallow and rapid, and he’s shaking. He has to take care of something. He has to save the world.

  
But hell if he doesn’t want to. Hell if he doesn’t want literally anything else other than to kill the only person that gave him a reason to live.

  
“I don’t want to,” he whispers, tears springing into his eyes. “I don’t want to do this, oh my God, I can’t do this.”

  
FRIDAY is silent.

  
“I can’t fucking do this.”

  
Peter’s fist connects with his skull, and Tony falls to the ground. He crawls away from him, but Peter advances steadily. He stops, grabs Tony by the shirt, and lifts him up, punching him as hard as he can in the nose. White-hot pain explodes behind Tony’s eyelids, and he screams.

  
He fires his repulsors at Peter again. “Peter, stop.”

  
Peter doesn’t stop. He just wipes the sweat from his face, leaving a streak of blood on his cheek. And he attacks. Again and again and again.

  
And each time, Tony has to hurt him again and again and again.

  
He doesn’t know how long it’s been when they stand across from each other. Hatred and fire spits from Peter’s eyes, and if he had the energy, he looks like he’d rip Tony’s head off. Tears fall down Tony’s cheeks as he stretches out both arms, the one with his iron arm trembling as he begs Peter to come back to him.

  
“Peter, please, I don’t want to do this. Come on, come back to me.”

  
Peter laughs bitterly and spits blood onto the ground. “Just fucking end it.”

  
Tony sniffles. His voice is thick as he says, “Re-remember May? How she’s a terrible cook and one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met? Or-or MJ? She’s smart, kid, she’s really smart. You got so…so lucky. And Ned…Ned loves you. He’s your best friend. Don’t do this to him.”

  
Peter’s lip curls in a snarl. “I don’t give a shit, Tony.”

  
Tony closes his eyes tightly, and two tears squeeze out. “Don’t do this to me, kid. Don’t make me do this, I beg of you, please come back to me, I can’t do this.”

  
“Then don’t.”

  
He almost obeys the command, almost drops the suit and runs to give Peter a hug. But it’s not Peter that’s saying it, it’s…that fucking _demon_ that’s possessing him, and Tony doesn’t even have to open his eyes to know that.

  
“Son, please come back to me, don’t do this to me, please, kid, I’m begging you.”

  
Peter screams and lunges at Tony.

  
And he reacts.

  
\---

  
The others find them both later, after the battle is won. The Iron Man suit is still standing as a metal sentry, having seen horrors that it can never tell. Tony’s cradling Peter in his arms.

  
They’re both dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the Holy Trinity of Pain. I told you I could top the last chapter!


End file.
